


Ignited Flame

by insanity_by_proxy



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Almost Kiss, Attraction, F/M, Falling In Love, Masyaf, Play Fighting, Post-AC Bloodlines, Pre-Relationship, that trope where people are sword fighting but really they're totally turned on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22140430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insanity_by_proxy/pseuds/insanity_by_proxy
Summary: Preparations for Altaïr and Maria's expedition East continue to drag on. Maria loses her temper. Altaïr is smug.They then put on a magnificent show for the Order before they depart, and Altaïr begins to realize that he's in serious peril when it comes to the former Templar.Short and sweet, and 1000 years late for this fandom.
Relationships: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad/Maria Thorpe
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	Ignited Flame

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this back in 2013 when I was on my first play-through of the Assassin’s Creed games. It was meant to be a six part series about the beginning of Altaïr and Maria’s relationship. I never finished it, but the first chapter stands up well enough on its own so I decided to publish it something like seven years after I wrote it.
> 
> This takes place immediately after the events of Bloodlines, in which Altaïr and Maria team up and then plan to travel East together. (That trip East being when Altaïr founds the Chinese branch of the Assassins.) This, according to Ubisoft is the start of their romantic relationship, but I found it lacking and decided to do something about it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Altaïr could feel Maria’s eyes boring holes into his back. A quick glance up at the novice who stood at Malik’s shoulder confirmed that Maria was indeed right behind his chair, if the boy’s panicked expression was to be believed. Malik glanced up from his paperwork too, in a silent appraisal of Maria’s mood. As he returned his focus to the sheaves in front of him, Malik cleared his throat in a warning; ah – not a good mood then.

“Yes, Maria?” Altaïr asked in a tone that pleaded: I am trying to work; can we settle this amicably?

“Are you ill?” her voice cut through the once peaceful atmosphere of the Masters’ study.

Altaïr was becoming intimately familiar with Maria’s moods. No one was truly safe from her wrath, but Altaïr seemed to be the one who received the vast majority of her ire. But the strange question was enough to convince Altaïr to set down his quill and turn to face the English-woman. Her eyes held a fire in them as he had expected from Malik’s signal, but that still didn’t explain why she way inquiring after his health.

“No,” he said, “I am quite well; but I thank you for asking.”

Maria’s scowl deepened with her annoyance. “Six months, Altaïr! Six _months_ I’ve been stuck in this god-forsaken little place! East, you said. You promised me that we would travel _east_ , yet here you sit growing _fat_ on your cushions, and leaving me no stimulation save for your _lackeys_ challenging me to duels; and let me tell you their performance in the ring has been _laughable_! When will we leave, or do you intend to keep me prisoner here until we both expire?”

Altaïr raised his eyebrows at her outpouring. To be honest, he had been expecting this for some time now. It was only ever a matter of time before Maria lost her temper, and this was certainly not the first instance she had railed at him on this subject. Altaïr was not keeping her prisoner, and yet she insisted he was. Malik had pointed out that this complaint was probably born from the fact that she had nowhere else to go. Her home and position among the Templars was not only lost to her, she was also now a wanted woman by those of her former order for the murder of Sibrand and the others, and for the destruction of the Templar Archive on Cypress. Not to mention, the subsequent loss of control of the island to the Order of Assassins. Maria was a traitor to her people now, and the only place she was relatively safe from them was at the fortress of Masyaf where the Templars could not reach her.

On top of this, Maria’s appearance at Masyaf as Altaïr’s companion had been a further source of tension between Altaïr and his brothers. But as time went on and as Maria became a more familiar sight amongst his men and as she proved herself to be their equal, their protests had become less frequent… regarding the English-woman’s continued presence among them at least. So she stayed, and her temper became more foul with each passing day.

In all the previous times that she had asked, Altaïr had only had one answer for her: there was much he needed to arrange at Masyaf before he could set out with her. Then he would ask for her patience, because he still needed more time. Altaïr was surprised she hadn’t simply set out without him yet, but here she stood; livid with him and apparently fed up with his excuses.

“A week.” Altaïr said when he was certain that she had finished her ranting.

Maria looked surprised with this answer, and Altaïr fought to hide a smile at this small victory; so little ever surprised this woman.

“A week?” She repeated. “I don’t understand…”

Altaïr could see that she’d already begun to assemble the facts in her mind, but he chose to humor her.

“Preparations are almost finished. I have named Malik as the de facto leader of the Assassins in my absence, and my successor should I fail to return. I have arranged with the Bureau in Alamut that we will be acting as the guards for the merchant caravan of one of our sponsors, Nizam A’tar Isfahani. We will be travelling along the trade routes through the mountains of the east to the city of Zayton in China. We will return by way of India, stopping in Mumbai, and then taking a boat up the Tigris River to Bagdad before finally returning to Masyaf by horse. Everything is in order, we are just waiting for the nine other Assassins meant to accompany us to gather.”

Maria was staring at him with a strange mixture of emotions in her expression.

“A week?” she repeated with a small smile. “Then East?”

Altaïr nodded. “Then we head East.”

“I…” Maria was quite clearly speechless with shock, yet her excitement was tangible.

“I’d start negotiations for a horse now.” Malik suggested. “It will take you that long to convince our stables to part with a poor creature.”

Maria nodded and began to make her way out of the Masters’ study.

“Oh, and Maria?” Altaïr said.

She turned.

“We will be gone for about a year; you and I are going to have to trust each other if we are to survive.”

Maria frowned in thought, but nodded her understanding.“I rode with the Templars for more than a year. I know a thing or two about travel.” She assured him.

“We may never return, Maria. Many never do; the road we will travel is a dangerous one.”

“I am not afraid of death, _Assassin_.” She said with a glare for good measure, then left the study.

“You will have your hands full with her.” Malik said when she’d gone.

Altaïr grunted his agreement, but turned back to his work.

“Really, what djinn possessed you to agree to this nightmare?”

Altaïr chuckled. “A particularly malevolent one…”

“Are you sure you can trust her?”

“If she were going to kill me, she would have done so already.”

“You sleep with guards outside your door…” Malik pointed out.

“Yes, no thanks to you -- But she’s bested any man you’ve put on guard duty in the practice ring a dozen times over.” Altaïr retorted.

And it was true, Rauf had nearly cried with joy when he had discovered Maria’s skill with a blade. All the new recruits, and some of the more senior Assassin as well, had taken a lesson in humility when Maria had entered the ring and knocked every man that challenged her flat on his back. The only men Altaïr knew of who hadn’t tried his hand against Maria had been Malik and some of the other Dais from other cities. Altaïr himself had never faced her in the practice ring, having fought her for real blood in Jerusalem and then several times again on Cypress. But all his men were curious to see how their mentor would fair in the ring against Maria. Perhaps he’d entertain the notion in the days before they left.

“She may not kill you herself.” Malik said, bringing Altaïr back to the present. “But her temper may drive you to jump off a cliff before she gets the chance.”

Altaïr was about to respond when Maria’s angry shouts floated up to them on the wind as she “negotiated” the price of the horse she coveted for their trip. The two men glanced at each other and Malik began to laugh. Even the novice at his shoulder who had remained obediently quiet this whole time couldn’t help but let out chuckle.

“Safety and peace indeed, brother!” Malik said between guffaws.

Altaïr couldn’t help but smile in return at the absurdity of the situation he was willingly throwing himself into.

* * *

Days later, when all the provisions for their first leg of the journey had been gathered and all the young members of the Order meant to journey East had assembled, Altaïr stood at the ready in the practice ring in the main courtyard of Masyaf fortress. Maria stood across from him, her defensive stance mirroring his own. A small crowd had gathered to watch the Master spar with the Englishwoman, and not all of them were from among the Brotherhood’s ranks. A quick glance at Malik told him that the Dai was enjoying this far too well.

A shout from the crowd alerted Altaïr just before Maria’s blade could come down across his cheek and cleave into his shoulder. Altaïr hastily leapt away then responded with a strike of his own.

They were testing each other, seeing whose reflexes were faster, and where the other’s weaknesses lay. Altaïr was stronger and slightly faster, they both knew; but Maria was clever and had a penchant for turning undesirable circumstances to her favor. She was also known for not fighting entirely fair.

After a few more curious blows, he and Maria fell into a rhythm of attacks and parries. Altaïr had only experienced this once or twice before in a fight, where the opponents were so evenly matched and in sync with each other’s thoughts that it felt more like a dance than a fight. Perhaps in Jerusalem the stakes had been too high, but here, where Maria had everything to gain and Altaïr had nothing to lose, here they were able to trade blows and twirl out of the way and tumble and block as if it were all rehearsed.

A smirk and a quick disarm left Maria scrambling to regain her footing with a scowl on her face. Much to his surprise Altaïr heard boos coming from the crowd to protest his actions. He turned to send glib words back at his men and Maria took the opening to tackle him from behind and kick his sword away before he could recover. Cheers erupted from the crowd gathered.

“It seems your men like our English rose better than you, Master!” Malik shouted and his men chuckled in response.

Altaïr grinned as well, even though Maria was currently pinning him to the ground with a knee on the back of his neck.

“Don’t be fooled!” He yelled. “She’s meaner than I, even if she is prettier.”

He heard Maria chuckle and scoff at his words.

“I’ll be sure not to mark up your face then, Assassin. You need all the looks you can have!”

Her words broke off into a yell of surprise as Altaïr bucked her off him and wheeled on her, unsheathing his hidden blade. The crowd had gone quiet again as Altaïr faced off against a weaponless Maria.

“Well, well, well.” She said licking her lips. “It seems you _can_ teach an old dog new tricks.”

Altaïr engaged first this time, but found himself on one knee when Maria ducked his strike and sent her fist into the back of his leg. He felt her spin nimbly out of the way of his flailing limbs, freeing his short blade from the sheath across his back in the process. Altaïr felt a surge of panic at his undefended back and he swung the hidden blade wide and caught nothing but air as she leapt out of striking distance.

The tension in the crowd was palpable now, it had been a while since any of them had seen a fight this good. Besides, Altaïr’s reputation had been restored now that they’d seen the skill of the woman who had bested him in Jerusalem.

The combatants circled each other, sweat pouring off their bodies and panting heavily. Altaïr was exhausted and he could tell that she was too; he had a sudden vision of another situation which could have them similarly out of breath and tired, but he pushed it down and turned it into drive as he resolved to end this quickly. Altaïr charged forward as if to tackle her, and Maria nimbly dodged the full-frontal assault as he had expected her to. Wheeling around on one foot he caught her hand with his as it came up to slash the short blade across his throat. Then his other hand shot out and wrapped gently around the curve of her neck, controlling her movements gently but firmly. Maria began to struggle in an attempt to free herself, but Altaïr tutted in warning and tightened the hand around her throat. She froze when she realized _which_ hand he had her pinned with. He saw the moment she realized he’d won when the soft “snick” of the hidden blade alerted her to her precarious position. One wrong move on her part would really spill her blood into the dust. He also saw that it only fueled the flame of determination in her eyes, and he could hardly look away from the way it lit her face. He was mesmerized, and his head inched instinctively towards hers without him fully realizing it.

The crowd around them was cheering happily for a battle well fought. Anyone who could hold their own so well against the Master of the Assassin Order was a skilled fighter indeed. But it wasn’t until Maria was lifted onto their shoulders that the intense gaze between them was broken, and she laughed in delighted surprise. Malik came up to Altaïr and clapped him on the shoulder.

“It was good of you to throw the match in her favor.” Malik said.

Altaïr gave him a look as if to say he was crazy. “I didn’t throw the match.” He said.

Malik laughed all the harder. “In that case you should be in the practice ring more often, novice!”

Altaïr frowned. “You fight her then!” He cried flinging an arm out to gesture at the woman in question.

But Malik shook his head and laughed. “I am only joking, brother. You both fought excellently. I’ve not seen such a display of skill in quite a long time. You both know your craft well.”

“Thank you, brother.” Altaïr replied.

“Now, go and concede a draw. All the men saw that you are still a skilled fighter, but you would gain her respect if you showed humility in front of your men.”

“Do I want her respect?” Altaïr asked.

Malik gave him a look sharper than any daggers, which stated that Altaïr clearly still acted like a novice at times.

“It will make her a more pleasant companion to travel with, I assure you.”

Altaïr sighed but stepped forward into the crowd who were all congratulating Maria or offering her words of advice. They all parted before their leader however, and he strode towards her. Altaïr stopped before her and she stared up at him curiously with no hint of shyness or apprehension because of his rank or occupation. Altaïr wracked his brain for an appropriate gesture, and he settled on something he had once seen his father do for his mother.

Altaïr knelt on one knee before her and held his hand out to her. He noticed her eyes widen in panic, but thankfully she decided to play along and took his hand with no shortage of trepidation clouding her expression. Keeping eye contact with her, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

“Maria Thorpe, you are without a doubt, one of the most skilled with a blade that I have ever met.” He said. “I am honored to have the privilege of sparring with you.”

Maria stared at him in shock, he could see her trying to work out whether or not he was being sincere or whether he was about to stand and make a mockery of her. But she must have spied some measure of sincerity in his face because a wide smile spread over hers and she thanked him for his kind words, and returned the sentiment.

“There is no shame in losing to you, Assassin.” She said.

Malik smiled to himself at the scene. He’d noticed the fire with which they looked at one another, and there was no doubt in his mind that by the time the pair returned to Masyaf that Altaïr and Maria would be wed, and that the Order of the Assassins would have not only one strong leader, but two.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Any and all historical references and non-cannon character names have been researched for accuracy via Google and Wikipedia. (Ergo, not very well.) This period/these languages are not my areas of expertise, so if I’ve made some huge mistake in names or in historical accuracy please do let me know.
> 
> Additionally, if you liked this fic please leave a comment to say so. Even a simple “liked it!” will be just as cherished as something longer.


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